Midnight Rain

bitter, oak leaf drops
spiral downward tin rooftops.
small dreams land on you.

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Burning with Bristle

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Ryegrass seeds
spread like
wildfire.

The wake
of noon,
has been
long overdue.

Swallowtails
land upon
newly grown
weed stems.

Wind gusts
break in—
fear stirs
gray wolf
neck hair.

You
hold out
your hand,
attracting daylight
and mid-summer sky
hush.

Your Adaptation

Blooming and dying,
these flowers of yours
still live just the same.
Every day you wish,
this kind of life cycle
would somehow change,
but you only receive repetition in return.
For each death and new life,
a seed inside you yearns,
desiring a halt in the agonizing process,
the never-ending nightmare,
that you realize won’t ever quit
until you do.

Indelicately Me

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In the here and now,
I know I’m the antonym against your name.
The fact I can deal with a pull of the muscle,
perplexes your cynic mind, living as a mundane.
You can’t seem to accept the idea of me winning over you
and would rather watch my carcass fall apart
in bittersweet, subtle hues.
But I am more than a bodily structure,
I prefer to mold myself like a conductor—
fueling my personal wavelength
that will aid me the coming days without enough light.
While you gaze from afar
ambushed by electric city winds,
losing grip of your coat,
this new kind of weather will intrigue you
more than you ever hoped.

Dysphoric Nights With You

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you cry out a little spark.
blue moon dreams
flicker your mind crisp cold.

your head rests on balloon tears,
pure inflation;
tinfoiled nights twice glossed over.

my hands fuse into yours,
covered with twinkling pulses,
upsetting the slow way of life behind a sternum.

burying our self-worth,
smoke hides what we both only know.
you envy the sky for its cosmic behavior.